


What Does This Say About Me?

by MushroomWings



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Doctor-lite, Other, hints of the doctor echo theory, suggestions of self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:10:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MushroomWings/pseuds/MushroomWings
Summary: In an alternate world, Salamander isn't evil but is constantly haunted by a world that is not his own in his dreams. After an incident that mirrors knowledge all too familiar to him due to these dreams, he begins to ponder.





	1. Bitter Root

Ramon Salamander was definitely a strange man, that much was certain.

An ambitious man whose childhood illusions of grandeur had brought him to propose what had been thought to be a preposterous plan years ago was just the surface of who he was. Some say beneath his eccentric exterior, the man was cunning and manipulative, a wolf waiting to pounce on his enemies the second they presented himself. Some even held the insane idea he wanted world domination, and was using witchcraft to acheive it! How absurd was that?!

The truth, those who worked closest with him could attest, was actually a lot different. The man was nothing more than a drunk rabbit, whose best work seemed to be done with three glasses of tequila and rum mixed with two sometimes three hours of sleep and a pot of coffee. His deputy Benik had nearly quit three different times because of these absurdities, but the man would be lying if he said it wasn't because he was worried for Salamander's health that he stayed. In truth, the way the man acted because of this concerned him greatly, and Benik feard what would become of the man and the station without him.

But, as with every problem, there was a cause.

For years, Salamander had been plagued with nightmares, visions of what he could only assume to be the prodcut of his own paranoia. Natural disasters were rampant, and he always seemed to be able to predict them. And maybe there was something about nuclear war, and people in a shelter? Usually whenever the lucid visions got to that point, it had just run past the images of him in a matador-esque outfit and he was ready to wake up, so he was never able to quite grasp that part. The thing that worried him most, though, was the fact that sometimes the nightmares would be nothing more than him standing in a wide room with two young adults who he got the strangest sense of deja vu from, and they would end with him being sucked into a vast vacuum, feeling biting cold winds and the breath be stolen from him as he could do nothing but scream.

It was usually around this time that he would be awaken by something other than himself.

Today, as it usually did, that duty fell to Salamander's personal assistant, Fariah. She stood, staring worriedly at him as he lay slumped over the top of the desk in his bedroom, a half-finished doodle still being gently scratched by the pencil still in his hand. She sighed, wondering how she became his personal alarm clock, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Leader?" she inquired softly, only to receive a soft murmur in reply. She applied gentle pressure to the area her hand rested on and slowly shook him. "It's the morning now. You have meetings soon, and you need to get ready."

The word made him jerk awake, sitting up right and dragging the writing utensil across the paper in a thick dark line. Salamander stared at the paper, unfocused, and then turned to her, his mouth hanging half-open in a tired stupor.

"Oh," he murmured, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Good morning, Fariah."

"I would say the same, but you don't look like you're having a good one." Fariah frowned. She knew he had trouble sleeping in the night (this hadn't been the first time she's found him asleep over the drawing of a strange monster, after all), and it seemed she was finally beginning to worry. "Would you like me to bring some coffee up, perhaps something to eat?"

"Yes... please. I would very much appreciate that." She nodded, but waited until he was standing and steady to leave.

Salamander staggered to the bathroom on the adjacent side, intent on his usual waking-up method. Once inside, he stripped before turning on only the cold faucet and stepping in. It took a few minutes longer than usual this time around, but eventually the cold water hit his system in a way that shocked him into full awareness. He shook his head, shivering, before deciding on adding the warm faucet today.

He rubbed at his face, contemplating last night's dreams. There were big scaly monsters that resembled humanoid fish, in a base surrounded by ice and snow. It wasn't the first time he'd experienced it, as a lot of them often repeated, but this time something about it unsettled him, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

Pushing it out of his mind for now, he turned off the water and stepped out, taking a moment to examine himself in the mirror. He would have to find a way to sleep without these strange dreams, and soon, or he may well look a hundred before he's even half that. He sighed, drying and dressing himself, making sure he was presentable to anybody and everybody before stepping foot out of the bathroom. In a weak attempt to motivate himself to not just curl up with a couple of Benadryl or some NyQuil to ensure a full period of sleep and instead go out and do productive science stuff like he was supposed to, he raised his hands to his reflection in a finger gun gesture.

Surprisingly, it worked, and he smiled, feeling a bit better about the day.

Fariah had brought in what she had offered while he was away, but now seemed nowhere in sight. This was not unusual, but the fact that today it set off an alarm in the furthest corner of his sleep-deprived mind was, but he thought nothing of it. Just as well, he figured. He felt more like being by himself right now anyway. He sat at the tray, having pulled it over to the desk, and began to eat in silence, trying to think of nothing but happy thoughts.

He ultimately decided on thinking of things he liked. He liked Fariah. He liked science. He usually like coffee, but he didn't like the coffee this morning, it was surprisingly more bitter than usual, but he did like sweets! Maybe he could convince Griff to make a cake tonight. Cats were likeable too!

Wait, hold on, why was this coffee thing bothering him so much?

It was then the rest of the alarm made its way to the forefront of his mind, where the logistic part of his brain connected to something he had always thought strange for the dream version of him to fear: _someone had put poison in the coffee_ , and the extreme bitterness he was tasting was his body trying to warn him of this.

Salamander pushed the cart away, already beginning to feel the effects of the concoction, and hurried to the door. He considered it good luck that there was a guard, Ianos, if he recalled, passing by in the hallway, who approached worringly when he'd suddenly burst forth from the bedroom door.

"Leader Salamander?" Ianos asked. "Is everything OK?"

"C-coffee," the man murmured, becoming acutely aware that there was a taste in his mouth similar to that of coins. "Someone..."

The man dropped to the ground like a stone.


	2. Daunted

Fariah Neguib didn't hate her boss. Far from it, actually. While on the exterior they only seemed to get along because of their work relationship,it would surprise many if she were to tell them of the nights she stayed up with him when neither could simply get to sleep, conversing into the late hours as though they had known each other for years longer than they actually did. Sometimes she briefly wondered if the cause for his lack of sleep was also the cause for these long nights.

On one of these all-nighters, Salamander proposed a strange question to her.

"Fariah, do you think I am unlovable?" he inquired. Fariah gave him an incredulous look.

"Leader, I would dare say most of if not the entire world loves you," she replied after a moment. Salamander clenched his jaw.

"I know that. I meant... in the other way."

"Ah. Well, I believe there is someone out there with the capacity."

"Do you."

Fariah stood and backed away without looking at him, beginning to feel a little suspicious of his intentions. Salamander noticed, and took another shot of the liquor on the bedside table, suddenly feeling guilty. He hadn't meant to scare her.

"What do you mean, Leader?" she asked softly.

"Look at me," he responded, laying on the bed. "Most everyone sees a scientist, a sorcerer even, who managed to harness the sun's rays in order to increase crops to prevent starvation from being an issue. Part of those that don't see me as an evil being, while the rest see a drunkard married to his work and alcohol."

She couldn't even deny that. It was the truth, and everyone knew it.

"Maybe you just need to find the right person who would see through all of that."

"Who would bother? I'm not getting younger, Fariah. At this point, the only thing I have going for me is my wealth."

 _And your sparkling personality,_ she thought to herself. _And your way with words. And the fact you can make a lot of people smile just by entering a room. And the way you don't let anyone get to you like this._

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Ramon." She finally looked to him again, only to find him sound asleep.

That had been less than a week ago.

Now, the memory came flooding back to her as Donald Bruce stood in front of her and Griff in the kitchen, demanding answers as to how the coffee had been tainted, with the guard captain, a man by the name of Faith, standing at the ready in case he was needed. Griff, despite the situation, was being his usual self, blaming the situation on the poor brewing job, but Fariah couldn't help but feel terror at the thought of Salamander doing this to himself. The only thing that saved her from voicing this thought to Bruce was that she still thought of it as an absurd idea. Why would he have gone looking for help if he had tainted it himself?

"Come now, Mr. Bruce, you can't tell me you've never had a bad brew of coffee," Griff said, pulling Fariah from her thoughts. "I've had a few pots myself that have nearly killed me."

"Do you not understand the situation, you daft man?" Bruce bellowed. "Bad coffee brews don't make blood come out of your mouth and leave you in such a state you might not survive to the afternoon!"

"Mr. Bruce, I keep telling you, we don't know what happened," Fariah finally said. "Griff and I both brewed the coffee, and we would never intentionally put anything in Salamander's food or drinks that could harm him! There's nothing even close enough to be mistaken for an ingredient!"

"You brought him the tray, correct, Ms. Neguib? You didn't have anything with you that you could have slipped into it between leaving here and the room?" Her hands tightened into fists, and she clenched her teeth, angry, but at what, she couldn't say.

"Search all over me." Her tone took Bruce and even Griff by surprise. "Search this premises high and low, every nook and cranny, but you won't find anything, because I have nothing to hide. Even so, what reason would I have to try to kill him?"

"What reason would you have to not?"

Something in Fariah's mind clicked, and she nearly lunged at him, only being held back by Griff and Captain Faith. The look on Bruce's face could only be described as 'stupified'. She was usually such a nice girl. What had her going today?

"Fariah, just answer the man, lest he shoots us both!" Griff said. He and Faith waited until she stopped wiggling in their grasps to let go, and she took a deep breath.

"Because he has dreams," she began. The others looked confused before she followed up, "Nightmares. Terrible visions where he has all of us under his thumb, where he aims to be the Earth's tyrannical ruler. He doesn't want that, he's so sure they're a product of his own fears in regards to the fame the SunStore brought him, and he wants to prove the nightmares false. Why would I want to snuff out the hope for dying having done only good for the world?"

"And how do you know he's not lying, trying to lead you on?" Bruce quietly asked after a moment.

"Because we've spent many nights just trying to pass the time because every time he closes his eyes, these visions are all he sees. Salamander's told me a lot about them, namely what becomes of all of us, including himself. He won't tell me what happens after a certain point, though, he says it's too terrible to comprehend, and then he just starts drinking heavily. At some point, he's formed a dependence on alcoholic substances to function, sometimes even to force himself to sleep. It never lasts long, though."

A silence wrecked the area.

"And what about the possibility Leader Salamander did this to himself?" Faith asked. Fariah looked to him, her eyes blazing, and he raised his hands defensively. "It's not that I think it likely, as I see it as quite ridiculous he would have gone out looking for help had he wanted to poison himself, but if what you've told us is true, Fariah, it's not something Mr. Bruce should rule out."

"We'll have to look through the security footage before we rule anything out for certain," Bruce said. "But it's definitely a possibility I'll consider. For now, you three just go about your business as usual. I'll have WZO agents around, so don't try any funny business, you understand?" The three nodded solemnly. "Good. Let's just hope for now that Salamander lives to tell us what he knows."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those curious, yes, Captain Faith is the same guard captain from episodes 2 & 3\. His name comes from the last name of the actor who played him, Gordon Faith.
> 
> Also, the entire premise for the story started out originally as the vignette at the beginning! Not the first time I've had an idea grow like this, and it probably won't be the last.


	3. Retrocognition

The one thing that Salamander would later come to hate about being in his state is that he could not as easily wake from the visions.

They seemed to be tormenting him full-force this time around, even showing him pieces of certain ones that had been previously missing from them, and even ones he had never seen. And he was powerless to prevent them from continuing. Just as well, he figured. At least some of them were finally getting interesting.

 _"Welcome to the TARDIS." Salamander whipped around at the ethereal voice_ , _and nearly faltered when he saw himself, his face set in a determined way and looking utterly ridiculous in baggy clothes. Despite himself, something about the man before him seemed right, and a sense of calm overcame him._

_Behind him, he heard one of the kids mutter something about a doctor, and a spark ignited in his memory that sent his head spinning._

_Doctor. Doctor. Doctor._ _**D o c t o r.** _

_"Thank you," he mumbled against his wishes. "You've done so well impersonating me, I had to return the compliment." The other him took a step forward, and he felt a little intimidated._

_"We're going to put you outside, Salamander." His double's voice was calm, but stern. "No friends. No safety. Nothing." The word bit at Salamander like a snake, and he was_ usnure _of why he felt so threatened_ in _that moment. "You'll run, but they'll catch up with you."_

 _Salamander himself could only observe, as if an outsider watching in_ _, as he quickly turned to the console in the center of the wide room. The kids panicked as a fight broke out between the two men that ended with the other man pinned to the control panel. He didn't hear what his own body snarled out_ , _and watched as the lad in the kilt jumped him, only to be knocked back._

_Salamander went for one of the switches, and all chaos ensued._

_The room shook with a great urgency, and the girl and the imposter clung to a chair as the room gradually grew smaller, his own shrieks being the only thing he could hear._

This was not an unusual vision. It was one he had had many times before, and it had many different endings (not that he had ever divulged them to even Fariah; he wasn't ready to be called crazy for his mind not being able to decide on his subsequent fate), but something bothered him about this one.

The man with his face had never appeared as nothing more than a static image, a form made of nothing but fuzz. Not even his clothes had ever been visible to him, so to see a full form now was quite the shock. Even stranger, one of the youngsters had said 'doctor', something else that had never happened before. The word had brought back images, flashes of people he had never seen before intertwined with images of himself, or was it himself? It was hard to tell; some of them, like the strange clown, had his face, but otherwise looked nothing like him.

And as if he had thought it couldn't get any worse, he was suddenly dropped in a darkened area. Subconsciously he sighed, thankful the onslaught was over.

_"Wh... what's happening?"_

_The voice was not his, but it echoed as though he were the source. He lifted a hand to his head, feeling as though time were moving slower and slower. He looked down at himself, surprised to find the shabby clothes from the previous dream._

_"What-what are you doing to me?!" the voice cried again. Four images appeared in his vision, each one a duplicate of the identical man from the room. The pictures circled around him like a windmill, and he could only gaze on in horror, frozen in fear._

_"The time has come to change your appearance, and begin your exile," another voice boomed,_ authoratative _and sure._

 _Suddenly, he felt burning, felt his body being pulled in all different directions. The only thing Salamander could do in that instant was_ scream _, panicking and begging as the sensation intensified._


	4. Waking Up

The chaos that had ensued immediately after Ianos alerted the other guards and the medics had been called seemed like a blur. Of course Donald Bruce had been alerted, as per regulation, and an investigation had started. There was no evidence to support any of the prevailing theories---the chef and the assistant were in on it; the guards had done it; Salamander himself did it---and it quickly became a cold trail.

In the meantime, Theodore Benik, Salamander's deputy, had been placed in his boss's position, with Patrick Swann, the lead engineer at the Kanowna Research Station, as his acting deputy. The two tried to keep things running as smoothly as possible, but with the dire situation, combined with the fact tensions were high as a result, the best they could do was act as if the leader had simply gone on conference, and the whole world waited with baited breath to find out what would happen.

Thankfully, after a while and a few close scares, Salamander seemed to be gradually stabilizing to the point that the ensuing outlook was positive. However, it was anyone's guess how long it would be until he would regain consciousness, if at all, though had anyone guessed that it would only take four days, they would likely have been called optimistic.

But, that's what it was. 96 hours after his improvement began, Salamander became acutely aware he was no longer in his house in Kanowna. In no time, he had opened his eyes to the brightness of a room in the Intensive Care Unit. He looked around, regaining his vision slowly, to find more monitors than was likely necessary, as well as the surprise that was Benik and Swann standing in one corner of the room, arguing. Strange, he thought, that they would manage to be left alone with him.

"Well, what do you suppose we do?" Swann asked. "His monitors being normal isn't exactly a bad thing. In fact, it's quite good! It means he's getting better!"

"I'm still alerting a nurse," Benik replied blandly. "The readings were awfully sporadic. How do we know this isn't a sign he's dying?"

"I..." Both men turned to the bed, surprised to find the Leader shifting and trying to speak. "...ke..."

"Ramon! Patrick, hurry, go find a doctor or someone!" Swann hurried out of the room, as Benik practically ran to Salamander's side, helping the man to sit up. Though others would often describe him as sadistic, he was surprisingly gentle. "Be careful, Leader. How are you feeling?"

"Truck... hit..." Salamander struggled to get out as Swann returned with a nurse. Thankfully, the deputy had spent numerous hours before trying to decipher the man's drunken and half-asleep rambles and was able to understand what he was tying to say. "...at... happ...?"

"Leader Salamander," the nurse began, taking out a small flashlight and shining it in either of the scientist's eyes, "can you understand me?" A nod. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"B... bitter. More... usual..."

"Understandable. A bitter taste is the body's warning that you've ingested poisonous substances. Follow my finger." The nurse held up their index finger, moving it around, and Salamander's eyes followed it as instructed. "Sight seems normal. Do you know where you are?"

"Aus...trali...tralia... In... Kanowna...?"

"Yes, good. Deputy, if you would please let him go, I believe he can be up by himself now."

"Words can't express how good it is to see you awake, Leader," Swann said, approaching as Salamander pushed himself fully into a sitting position from where Benik had been holding him up. "You've worried everyone."

"How... how long?" Salamander asked quietly, his voice slowly returning to him.

"Four days," Benik replied calmly. "Swann and I have been trying to keep up spirits in the research station in the meantime, but we can only do so much. I must ask, though, just to make sure what happened didn't affect your memory..." He gestured to himself and then Swann. "Who am I, and who is this gentleman?"

Salamander only stared at Benik with a blank and half-dead look on his face. It wasn't that he didn't like the way he was being spoken to, as a blatant lack of caring was just how Benik showed him concern, but rather that he was having trouble thinking. He placed a hand against his head, trying to find the information as his brain made its way through the haze of reality and the visions. The other three began to get concerned when he couldn't reply.

"You... you're Theodore Benik," he murmured at last. "You're my second-in-command at the Kanowna Research Station. In my absence, you are its leader and are entrusted to make sure nothing bad happens in my absence." Benik nodded in approval, the twitchings of a small smile on his mouth, and Salamander turned his attention to Swann. "You are Patrick Swann, head of workspace and the leade engineer at the station. Should both Benik and I be unable to perform our duties, you are the one who is to make sure they are fulfilled."

"It is good to see you recovering so well already, Leader," was the only thing Swann could think to respond with.

"Leader, I must ask you this," the nurse began. "I'm afraid I'll have to get in contact with Mr. Bruce, as we had been instructed to inform him once you regained consciousness. He will probably want to speak to you as soon as he possibly can. Do you feel well enough to do so?"

Salamander's thoughts struggled through the haze once more, trying to find anything on Donald Bruce. His mind finally landed on words that made a sense of calm fill him at the name, and nodded.

"Yes," he responded quietly. The nurse nodded and left the room.


	5. Catharsis

To say Donald Bruce was relieved at hearing Salamander had awoken was putting it lightly. He began to feel a weight lift off his chest at the news, and his stone heart danced with joy. This was very good news; to him it meant that, barring complications during the resulting healing process, the Shopkeeper of the World would not die in an, admittedly hilarious, ironic way. He informed the aide who had called him that he would be by that afternoon if the scientist was feeling up to it, and he set about looking into anything else that had come of their investigation into the case.

 

Three hours later, Bruce's strides were very audible to Salamander, who was finally getting out of his coma-induced haze. The scientist steeled himself as the knock resounded on the door, and he called for the Security Controller to enter. The man did so, and it was silent for a few moments before Bruce finally spoke.

 

"It's good to see you awake, Leader," he said softly. "We had all begun to worry."

 

"Over what?" Salamander's tone was bitter, and he didn't look at Bruce, which greatly worried the elder man. "It was bound to happen, Bruce."

 

"Bound to happen?" The phrase had shocked Bruce to his core. "Leader, what ever could you mean 'it was bound to happen'?"

 

"Isn't it obvious? All the guards, all the precautions, all the paranoia... You can't tell me there wasn't anything that was bound to slip through the cracks."

 

A moment of silence. Salamander finally looked up as the Security Controller walked closer.

 

"Down to business, then, I suppose," he murmured. "Then you do not think Ms. Neguib and Mr. Fredericks were responsible for this?"

 

"No, of course not," Salamander spat. "Griffin may think his cooking is terrible enough to kill someone, but he doesn’t give himself enough credit. Fariah may hate the things she has to do as my assistant, but I know she would never harm me unless I had deserved it." He looked away once more. "I'm... sure she's probably told you of what happens between us in the night."

 

"She has but didn't go too well into details. Really, it was one of the reasons I had been hoping to talk to you as soon as possible. She mentioned you didn't want to turn out like the man you see in your paranoid dreams, and that she would never snuff out the hope you have for any more good you could do." Bruce went silent and wrung his walking stick just long enough that it made the scientist turn to him curiously. "Your guard captain proposed the resulting idea that you had poisoned yourself but staged it to make it look like it wasn't you."

 

For the first time in a very long time, Salamander let out a genuine, hearty laugh. The noise took Bruce by surprise, and he quickly became confused.

 

"Ah, that's a good theory!" Salamander wiped at a tear that had come because of his laughing. "Please, if you see him again before I do, tell Captain Faith I needed that!”

 

"Salamander, I'm afraid this is no laughing matter," Bruce said sternly. "If it wasn't you, and it wasn't your chef or assistant as the three of you say, then we have the problem of an attempted assassin that we have no leads on. Once they find out they failed, it's entirely possible they will come after you again."

 

"I realize that, Bruce," Salamander responded, his tone now grim. "I would rather not make my thoughts worse than they are right now.”

 

“I can understand. However, the entire situation has me worried. I’m sure neither of us would like it to happen again, so I implore you to at least hire a food t---”

 

“NO!” The shout took both men by surprise, and Salamander clamped his hands over his mouth. They stared at one another in silence for a few moments before the scientist felt comfortable speaking again. “I… I can’t… Bruce, I can’t, don’t ask that of me…” Bruce sighed, unable to understand the man’s distress on the matter.

 

“Very well. I won’t press the matter for now. But I insist we find one for you soon.”

 

The Security Controller hesitated as Fariah’s words the day this all started came back to him. **_Salamander's told me a lot about them, namely what becomes of all of us._** It made him curious as to whether this paranoia-created version of their world included one of them in such a position, though he didn’t dare pursue this information from the trembling Shopkeeper himself. Regardless, the man seemed panicked at the mere thought of putting someone in such a position, so Bruce decided he would leave him be until Salamander wasn’t so frazzled.

 

“While I do hate to end our conversation on such a sour note,” he began, hesitantly placing a hand carefully on the scientist’s shoulder, “I’m afraid I do have to leave now. However, I will make sure to keep regular checks on you to ensure you do not make a turn for the worst.” Bruce gave him a tiny smile, something that took the younger man by surprise, and a nod before turning to walk out of the hospital room. Before closing the door behind him, he added, “Brave heart, Salamander. Keep your head up.”

 

And with that, Bruce left him alone. Salamander was silent for a few moments, before sighing.

 

“It’s easy for him to say,” he murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is referring to catharsis, the process by which you relieve suppressed emotions.


	6. Migraine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to update this before the end of July, but unfortunately, when it's a fic like this then my mind works on 'ooh, a tangent that we could get a decent chapter out of....' and didn't produce one for me until the other night, but I hope you enjoy all the same!!

Wordlessly, Salamander rose from the bed, staggering carefully to the door and sitting on the floor, pressing his back against the wood. He sighed, shaking his head. He needed to think, and while this didn't buy him much time, it would definitely prevent people from barging in unannounced.  
  
It was happening. The world he was so desperately trying to prevent was beginning to take form, and it was beginning to look like he was now powerless to stop it. What was he to do? The whole world would think he was crazy. He was certain Fariah did, though she said nothing that would hint at anything of the sort. Bruce surely did, if his supposed concern was any indication.  
  
"What am I to do?" he murmured, placing his head in his hands. "I don't want any of that to happen. I refuse to let it."  
  
But what if it was too late? The visions had been happening sporadically over the years, usually it was the strange adventures he dreamed of, but had been ever persistant since the Sunstore's success five years hence. It was through unwitting coinccidence these same people he'd brought down and vice versa were the same ones he'd seen in those dreams, and once he realized this he tried his damndest to make sure they would not fall into the same place.  
  
He kept Benik in check the best he could, and if the deputy overstepped any lines, he made sure to talk to him and figure out what they could both do to make sure it didn't happen again. He would not let him get to the point of torturing people under their watch, and he would definitely make sure Benik didn't try to take a coward's way out.  
  
Though he wasn't sure exactly what had happened with Swann or the others from the bunker in the visions (the Shopkeeper knew he himself would strike a killing blow on the man in order to prevent him telling others something that could potentially unravel a deep web of lies and that that blasted Giles Kent was involved somehow, but the exact details were very fuzzy), he made sure the lead engineer stayed away from him in the few moments Salamander himself had an outburst, and was completely open and honest with the staff and Bruce on the going-ons within the research station and any other projects he had planned. He also made sure to follow Kent the second he started becoming suspicious, and was surprised to find him attempting to build that blasted shelter. As a result, he had taken down one of the biggest pieces of the mess before the Sunstore even launched.  
  
But it was perhaps Fariah he was the most worried about. In this alternate world, it was he himself who had forced her to remain on his staff through blackmail, in a position so close to him, and so made sure she knew she was free to leave or obtain a different position at any time with no ill will on his side, and would always be welcomed back with open arms if need be, and that anything she may confide in him he would take with him to his grave. He tried to never give her a reason to not trust him, though sometimes he felt he put too much importance on her role in the grand scheme of it all, and that it wasn't right.  
  
The second Bruce had uttered the words 'food taster' had made his stomach do leaps and bounds. _She was hungry,_ he could hear this evil version of him laugh cruelly. _Only thing is, now she has all the food she needs. She has lost her appetite._ ...No. He wasn't going to let that happen to her.  
  
He wouldn't let any of it happen if he had a say in the matter. If he could go down without hurting any of them, it would be the only thing he could hope for at this point.  
  
_**You've spent all this time worrying about the others, but what of yourself?**_ he heard something suddenly ask him. _**You're going to get very sick or worse at this rate. What does that make you?**_  
  
"A better person than he was," Salamander spat back.  
  
_**Pathetic. You're no better than he is.**_  
  
"I'm at least not going down a lying, back-stabbing murderous psychopath!"  
  
_**Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?**_  
  
He froze. "I... I've already done much better than he has. I've---"  
  
_**Spare me the soliloquy, eh? I know exactly what you've done, but I still think you need to start thinking of yourself.**_  
  
"No! In fact, that's the one thing I still have that hasn't changed yet! If I can stay the way I'm going, then maybe---"  
  
_**I'm not saying don't go completely selfish. Just... take care of yourself better. You can do that while still making sure your countermeasures are in place. Look at you. You've gotten more rest being in a coma for the last four days than you have actually sleeping in the last two months. Go, look at yourself.**_  
  
Salamander stood, hesitant at the command, but made his way over to the washroom. He studied himself in the mirror for a moment. Now that he felt he could actually perceive things without being completely inebriated, he was actually shocked to find he looked worse than he had remembered. Deep bags had made a home under his eyes, and his overall appearance seemed a fair bit more older than he actually was. His head throbbed suddenly, and he winced as he noticed the slight sallow glow his skin held.  
  
How long had he looked like this?  
  
_**You need to take care of yourself better. I know it's how you cope with everything, but perhaps there are less destructive ways of going about it?**_  
  
"There's Fariah..."  
  
_**She can only help you so much and you know that. You have the ability to seek the help that you weren't able to get when you were younger. Why not act now?**_  
  
Salamander didn't speak. He was too afraid to, and he was starting to become scared of the strange presence talking to him, despite how familiar it seemed.  
  
_**It's OK to be scared. This has been happening full force for... what, four years? That other you destroyed himself in the end too, remember? If you want to be better than him, why not make sure you don't do the same?**_  
  
His hands tightened into fists as the words stabbed at him.  
  
"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME!" he shouted, turning around but becoming surprised when he saw that he was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is a reference to the song "Migraine" by Twenty-One Pilots.
> 
> It correlates very well to this version of Salamander.


	7. Catscratch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at calendar and date of last update*
> 
> Fuck.
> 
> I... didn't mean to be gone this long. I'm sorry, but I had been struggling with how to get this one out, due to having another idea that was subsequently used for a different fic, so I wound up using an idea that was to come later on instead.
> 
> Although this one has, um... has been done since mid-October. I just keep forgetting to post it. ;A;

In the days following his awakening, Salamander made what was perhaps the most important decision he could at the time: stepping down temporarily. Seeing himself in the mirror after Bruce left had stirred something in him, a realization that the little voice deep in his soul (his conscience, maybe?) had talked him into. Who knows how much longer he would have if he continued on this route? There was so much to do, so little time to do it in, and he needed to focus on himself first if he intended to do any of it.

The phrase "Stop and smell the roses" had been a fairly prevalent phrase said to him prior to the poisonings, and he could now see why, though he took it more literal than most. Thankfully, the grounds of his residence had an extravagent garden, tended to by a very appreciated employee, and it was a common occurrence to find him sitting amongst it in the months during his recovery.

On one occasion, Salamander noticed a little friend strutting amongst the bushes. A small, grey tabby cat lurked in the shadows, its golden eyes watching the man closely as he smiled at it. In the span of a few months, the little cat would become accustomed to their meetings to the point that one day it decided to wander up to him and rub against his leg. The scientist leaned over slowly, gently scritching behind its ear.

"Do you like this area?" he asked it, not expecting an answer. "It's got a few nice and sunny spots for you to bathe in, I bet." The cat purred, sitting gracefully at his feet. "A really long time ago, I had a grandfather who had a garden like this one. He would always chase away the cats if he saw them, though, but I wouldn't. They don't hurt it. They come to enjoy what it provides too, just like you, little one."

Salamander patted the empty spot beside him on the bench. "You're free to come up here and join me. This area has a good spot of sun. I bet you lay here all the time when no one else is around, hm?"

Two weeks later, the cat had been adopted into the house, free to enter and exit as it pleased, and named Cas. It was common to find it curled up in bed beside Salamander in the mornings.


	8. The Remedy

The research station shared a collective sigh of relief when the workers learned, after what seemed like years but was only a period of several months, that their CEO would be returning to work soon. His state had worried the majority of them when he finally, finally admitted to needing help not long after he had regained consciousness.

 

"Leader, are you all right?" Benik inquired upon seeing Salamander doubled over against the wall, his breathing even and slow as if he were asleep.

 

"Hm?" The elder man lifted his head at the words, and the deputy took a step back. Had he always looked this terrible? "I... Yes. I will be, Benik. Thank you."

 

Benik, in an unusual gesture for him, offered his arm to help balance, which Salamander gladly accepted as they continued forward through the corridors to a meeting room. If he were being completely honest with himself, Benik wouldn't be surprised if his boss were to keel over at any minute, but pestering him about that kind of thing was more Swann or Fariah's job, and not his. Instead, he tried to help Salamander push on the best he could.

 

"Hey..." Salamander began, in an effort to lighten the mood, "did I tell you? I finally figured out the equation for the physics in that old Quantum Leap show."

 

"That's pretty impressive," Benik responded, trying to not show his concern. "But when was the last time you got any sleep?"

 

"Just twenty-four hours ago." Salamander narrowed his eyes, bothered that the deputy wasn't just humoring him. The other sighed.

 

"Very well. Just let me do the talking in this meeting then. Though, we are going to arrive a tad early. Maybe you can---"

 

"No."

 

Benik was taken aback when Salamander let go of his arm, but stumbled before regaining his posture and crossing his arms in defiance. The younger man almost laughed; the combintion of factors almost made him look like a kid, but now was not the time for joking around.

 

"Ramon, we can't have you falling out at anthor meeting," Benik groaned, trying to keep his cool despite the increasing difficulty. "You're making people worried left and right! What you're doing to yourself isn't healthy."

 

"I'm perfectly fine!" Salamander seemed to wobbled to the side for a minute before steadying himself, proving Benik's point.

 

Benik ultimately gave up that fight, knowing his point would be proven in time (and it was). If the Shopkeeper of the World was going to light himself on fire, then the deputy was just going to calmly drink a glass of water as he watched the show. He was done playing these games.

 

So to see Salamander at the research centre again after his recovery from being poisoned, unannounced but looking less like a zombie and more like an actual human being, Theodore Benik was very surprised.

 

"I... I thought you would not be returning for another month," he stammered, clutching the file he had been carrying. "Trying to make sure you were in top shape."

 

"I may as well toss myself into something," Salamander grinned, eager to return to business. "I've got so much more planned, so many more ideas! I want to get started on them as soon as I possibly can!"

 

Benik looked at the documents scattered about the desk. Theoretical formulas for reviving DNA past its half-life so as to bring back long-extinct species, ways to harness the energies of the Earth and Sun in order to help reverse global warming and prevent further damages being done to the polar caps, and even one for the physics of some science fiction show about space travel were what caught his interest the most. Was this what he had gotten up to in the time he had been making himself better, thinking of ideas and spending those free hours just coming up with hypothesi? If it weren't for the fact Salamander seemed so much more energized and eager to begin working, he would be impressed.

 

Right now, tho, he was a little scared.

 

"Did you make all these in the time you've been gone?" Benik asked quietly, to which his boss nodded eagerly.

 

"Time doesn't stop for anybody!" the Shopkeeper declared. "God knows what I've been doing to my body these last few years hasn't been helping me any, so... who knows if I'd live long enough to actually see these come to fruition?"

 

"You're an environmental scientist! What does warp speed have to do with that?!"

 

Salamander was silent for a few moments as the words sank in. The deputy did have a point,and it was really more in an attempt to impress people that he could do more than just nature, but then an idea came to the older man.

 

"We could enhance the SunStore with it! Right now we can only do between three and four crops in one season. Think of what we could do with triple---no, septuple that!"

 

"Salamander, we both know that's not how it would work. Even if it did, we'd likely be throwing a lot of it away." Benik sighed. "I understand you've got a lot of things planned out, but maybe take it easy? You may not be throwing yourself into the usual alcoholism and lack of sleep, but you're still trying to dive too hard into work. Just... don't go so hard at it. You want to live to see some of these come true, right?" He picked up the formula on reviving dead prehistoric DNA. "Like this. You want to see something like the megalodon, right?"

 

"Actually---"

 

"It was only an example. The point is, if you want to see these things become reality, Ramon, you must take your time. Rushing headfirst after barely being fully recovered from poisoning as well as putting your health back on track isn't going to help matters. Start with one, and when you feel like we're making progress on that then you can pick another from this ungodly stack and start on it."

 

A silence purveyed the room. Salamander furrowed his brow, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts, and Benik sighed once more. Was this a child or a middle-aged man he was talking to?!

 

"I've been worried about you for as long as we've worked together, Ramon, I really have," the deputy insisted, "and I'm glad you finally admitted you needed help with yourself. I'd just hate to see everything about yourself that you've worked on these last few months crumble with one mistake. So... I apologize if I seem like I'm going a little hard on you."

 

"...No," Salamander replied. "Don't be. You're right.”


End file.
